


Learning about more than combat

by Clarimonde



Series: Teach me how to love [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din is as usual flustered, Discord got this stuck in my brain, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Smut, Oblivious Corin, Paz to the rescue, school teacher Corin AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarimonde/pseuds/Clarimonde
Summary: In this AU Corin is a preschool teacher who ends up teaching the foundlings. Baby Yoda loves his new teacher and eventually so does his father.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret) & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Teach me how to love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616401
Comments: 16
Kudos: 276





	Learning about more than combat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> Thanks to LadyIrina for letting me play around with this. Discord got the idea stuck in my brain and I had to let it out. It was supposed to be a one shot but I had so much fun writing it and so many lovely readers left kudos that more is on the way soon.

Paz Vizla was in a sour mood. He had been given this miserable mission not, as it would seem, as a punishment for something, but because everyone in the covert had agreed he was the best man for the job. Never mind his strength, his brawn, his combat skills. Paz was acknowledged as one of the best with the foundlings, being honorary uncle to many. This was why on a hot and dusty afternoon he had left their underground base and been sent into the nearest town to find a replacement teacher. Things had been stable for a while for the covert and their new home was somewhere they could hopefully put down some roots. Many, Paz normally included, went out to find jobs where they could bring honour to their clan. Supplies and the precious Beskar too of course. It also allowed them to raise the next generation of foundlings, to teach them the way but also to read, write, and count. There were currently a dozen little children of various species in need of an education.

The previous teacher had been removed the day before. A hard-faced older woman, not a Mandalorian but willing to tolerate them for credits. There was no queue of people willing to work underground for a secretive warrior race and no one within their own ranks who wanted the job. There was no shortage of combat or weapons instructors but no member of the covert would volunteer for finger painting duty as a permanent role. 

The last teacher had been cold and prone to shouting at her charges. She would bang her fists on the desk and frighten the smallest ones. Several of the children had begun to have nightmares and many had to be physically dragged to the classroom. When a four-year-old human boy had come back to his family with the word idiot chalked on his forehead the woman had been strongly advised to be gone from the planet by sundown. The alternative was for her to face the boys’ mother in combat. She had left for the spaceport that minute.

The school stood at the edge of the town square. It was a dumpy little brick building with a tiled courtyard in front. There seemed to be a commotion, Paz could hear shouting and, worryingly, children crying. There was a crowd of onlookers at the edge of the courtyard but they instinctively made way for the heavily armoured man. As the watchers parted, he could see a couple of armed mercenaries and a man forced down to his knees at their feet. One of the mercs had a blaster aimed at his head, the other had a tight hold on his hair. A small group of children were being kept back by an older man, the school’s headmaster. The kids were trying to reach the man on the ground and begging the men not to hurt him.

Paz readied his smallest blaster and slowly stepped forward, not wanting to spook the men or further distress the children.

“What is this? Let’s all calm down, there are children here”

“We found ourselves an imperial runaway” said the merc with the blaster. “His kind need putting down and we get paid for everyone we do.”

“I’m just a teacher, I’m not a soldier, I never hurt anyone!” Said the kneeling man.

The hand tightened in his hair forcing him further down. A little girl screamed. 

“His Uncle was on the Deathstar, all his family were in the imperial army, there is good money for anyone who takes out a Valentis.” Sneered the merc at his back. The man managed to raise his head a little, turning bright blue eyes towards the children. 

“Please.” He said quietly. “Don’t kill me in front of the children, it’s not their fault who my family were.”

Two shots rang out, the crowd fled. Paz stepped forward as the mercs hit the ground dead, they had never even seen him move. Several of the children broke free but instead of running away they surrounded their teacher who still knelt on the ground, shielding him. Paz carefully approached, blaster lowered, and held out a hand to help the man up. 

“There may be more of them around and it looks like you need a new job.”

The man had been only too glad to accept the protection of the Mandalorians in exchange for his teaching skills. The children had been devastated to part from him, begging him to visit when it was safe. This seemed like the best possible reference the man could provide in Paz’s opinion and he soon had the man installed in the Coverts infant classroom. It had a small bedroom and fresher in a private area through a door at the back of the room so he would not need to roam around too much. Outsiders were not usually allowed in the base but it was for the good of the foundlings. As long as he was respectful there would be no problem.

Din Djarin returned to the Covert in an apprehensive mood. He had been away since before dawn hunting for a creature harming local farmers a half day ride from the town. It had been a fairly simple job and the credits he received would go to buy supplies the Mandalorian’s needed. His heart had not really been in it today, he was worried about his son. 

The tiny green child of an unknown species was his foundling, to be raised in the covert with the other children. When Din left for the day the child would go to his infant class with the others, if he had to be away overnight one of the other Mandalorian’s would watch him. It was usually Paz, the kid seemed to be particularly fond of him. 

Lately though the kid had been withdrawn and fussy, clinging to Din’s leg when he tried to take him to school. Din spent more time than he was happy with away from his child. He wanted to him to be as happy as possible in the circumstances and so had resolved to speak to his teacher. Diplomatic speeches were not his strong point and he suspected that if he simply threatened to shoot the woman if his kid didn’t stop crying every morning as he was dragged down the corridor towards the classroom would make things worse.

Din got back to their quarters at sundown, dreading the sight of a little tear stained face peeking out from his blanket. To his surprise he found Paz sitting in the rooms only armchair with a happily cooing kid on his lap. The huge man was praising something the kid was holding out to him. As Din got nearer, he could see it was a painting of a little green figure with long green ears and a tall grey figure holding his hand. The kid squealed as he saw his father and leapt into his outstretched arms, excitedly waving his artwork. 

“Looks like someone had a better day, what happened?” 

“Looks like some very clever person around here solved the teacher problem.” Paz grinned. “New guy started today; kids seem to love him so hopefully this little Womp rat sleeps better from now on.” He ruffled the kids ears affectionately. 

He filled Din in on the rescue and what he had learned of the man on the way back to the covert. Imperial family, not his fault but enough to make him a hunted man. Din glowered a little, no love lost between Mandalorians and Imperials, for his child though he would at least try to be civil, and very watchful.

“Oh, and he’s really easy on the eyes.” Din could almost feel the man leer at him from behind the helmet. 

The kid slept peacefully that night and Din decided he would walk him to his classroom himself the next morning. The little one had bolted his breakfast and was ready to go even before his father was done in the shower. Din’s curiosity rose as he followed the scampering child through the base, marvelling at how fast he could move when he wanted something. The excited squeaking noises increased as they neared the open classroom door. 

Din was not sure what he had expected to see from the Imperial description Paz had given him. It was not a fairly tall, lean, muscular figure bent over a desk with his back to him. For a second the thought flashed through his mind that he should not stare at his son’s teacher’s ass, no matter how good it looked in a pair of worn jeans. The man straightened at their approach, turning from where he had been laying out coloured chalk and paper on the desk. He had straight dark hair falling almost across his deep blue eyes as he moved toward them. He pushed his fingers through his fringe and then held out a hand to Din. 

“Hi, I’m Corin.” His cheeks dimpled when he smiled. “It’s good to meet you.”

Din was aware that an answer was expected of him, that he was standing in sudden foolish silence too stunned to speak. He slowly extended a hand, the Mandalorians were not handshake kind of people, except as a show of strength, but Corin did not seem intimidated. Just pleased to see him. He carefully took the man’s hand and Corin shook it eagerly. Just for a second his thumb brushed against the bare skin where his glove had slipped a little as they moved. Din recoiled as though stung, a little bolt of electricity seeming to arc through the touch. He managed to mutter something about being pleased to meet him and then fled, leaving a puzzled teacher and student behind. 

Over the next few weeks Din made sure he dropped the little one off each morning and picked him up each afternoon. The kid gradually began to linger at the end of school each day, making his father wait for him. To his surprise he found Corin quite easy to talk to while he waited and he soon found he looked forward to the few minutes they spent together each day. Corin was open and friendly and considerably more tactile than Din was used to. A hand on his shoulder as he looked over the kids latest drawing or a light touch on his hand as he said goodbye. Din was never more grateful for his helmet than those moments, certain he was a blushing mess.

Matters became more complicated after Din had decided to spend a rare evening in the Covert’s communal area while the child stayed with a playmate for the night. After the usual battle stories and drunken boasting the conversation turned to the outsider. Din had made some remark about how friendly and open Corin was when he was roundly contradicted by the assembled clan. The general verdict was that Corin was an excellent teacher but quiet and shy with the adult Mandalorians. Not one person in the room had ever been so much as brushed against and he tended to keep his eyes down when in their presence. 

“Must just be you.” Snorted Paz. 

Din spent the next couple of days working in the next town over, not that he was avoiding anyone. Not that he missed Corin at all, missed their conversations, those bright eyes and smile. Nope, he was just busy.

When he got home the kid was sitting on his bed waiting for him, a sly expression on his little face. Usually he would pounce on his father as soon as he returned but this time he was just sitting, very quietly, holding a large piece of paper. Din bent to take it and had to sit down quickly as he saw the child’s latest work. As before it showed him and the child holding hands, this time though there was a third figure, one without a helmet. Dark hair and huge blue eyes. He was holding Din’s other hand.  
The child looked at him and giggled happily.  
Paz was snoring in the armchair as Din bolted out of the door, brain disengaged, concerned only with reaching the classroom. He burst through the door still clutching the picture. A startled Corin came out of the adjoining bedroom on hearing the noise. He wore just his t shirt and boxers and looked as though he had been about to sleep. 

Din crossed the room before the startled man could speak and wordlessly held out the picture. Corin took it and his expression subtly changed, a flush rose up his neck and his pupils dilated. He took a step forward and Din pushed him back against the door frame, one hand curled into his t shirt the other holding his shoulder. He felt the heat through the man’s light clothing as Corin tentatively lifted a hand to Din’s neck, fingers just grazing the skin beneath the helmet. Din growled and then Corin was suddenly out of his grip and now behind him, pushing him through the bedroom door. 

The following morning Din woke early to a warm body curled around him; legs tangled together. Clothes who knows where in the room, thrown somewhere the night before. The only thing he had managed to keep on was the helmet. Corin was still asleep, a peaceful smile on his face. Din was reluctant to wake him but he needed to get back to the kid. He also had some explaining to do to Paz. While they both dressed the usual easy conversation still came naturally. 

As Din walked back to his quarters, he couldn’t help the grin concealed by the helmet. He needed a shower and to rest his aching muscles but his heart had never felt lighter. He decided that he would bring Corin out of his little world and into Din’s, introduce him properly to his fellow Mandalorians. And maybe, hopefully, claim him as clan


End file.
